


Two Shoesteps Back, One Shoestep Forward

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-20
Updated: 2006-03-20
Packaged: 2019-02-02 13:54:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12727836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: See part one





	Two Shoesteps Back, One Shoestep Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

Six, no seven, candles stared at him, their flames dancing from the summer breeze flowing through the open dining room window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Janet hit the light switch. The candles lit his face and he gazed down at the cake, reading the carefully frosted "Happy Birthday, Daniel" on top.

"Make a wish," someone told him, but he was too busy staring to notice who said it. Instead he looked at the candles, frozen. He blinked, and took a deep breath. It was his birthday.

Only a stupid birthday.

He'd made a wish on cake before. They didn't come true when you were a kid, they didn't come true when you adult.

He let out the breath, blowing the candles out. A chorus of "Happy Birthday" started up and suddenly, the room was too small, there were too many people, and the world was completely unfair.

The lights came back on and he heard Jack ask him which piece of cake he wanted. Sam pulled the seven wax candles out of the cake and put them on a paper plate.

Jack repeated himself and Daniel looked at him. He tried to form words, but they didn't come.

Instead he looked back at the plate that held seven candles, one for good luck.

He bolted from the table and out the backdoor.

\--

Daniel sat on the edge of the sandbox, his thumb in his mouth, and his other hand digging its fingers restlessly through the sand. He heard the footsteps and knew who it was without even looking up.

"I wanna be alone," he mumbled around his thumb, not moving an inch, expect for the constant motion of his hands against the grains of sand.

He heard a sigh and felt a heavy weight slowly sit next to him on the sandbox's narrow edge.

"Daniel."

He blinked, trying so hard not to cry. He was frustrated. At himself, at the world, at his reckless five-year-old, just recently turned six, emotions that left his heart on his sleeve for all to see. This wasn't how he was. He worked years to be who he was, faults and all.

But it was gone.

Poof.

Thirty-eight to six in less than thirty seconds.

He felt an arm snake itself around his shoulders and for once he didn't want it there. Dr. Daniel Jackson was going to be in control today. Little Daniel O'Neill would just have to watch from the sidelines.

Jack let himself be pushed away and he was grateful. Together they sat for a few minutes, silent except for a soft sound of his fingers raking through the sand.

Finally Daniel sighed, wrenched his thumb out of his mouth and looked at Jack.

"I'm thirty-nine," he stated.

Jack nodded. "I know." A pause. "But you're also six."

Daniel shook his head. "No. Not six. Thirty-nine."

"Daniel." Jack's voice was gentle, comforting. But he didn't want that. He wanted to be able to go out and have a drink to toast the fact that next year he'd be forty. He wanted the over-the-hill jokes Jack would make, despite the fact that the man was well over forty himself. He wanted steak - that he could cut himself, his hands able to grip the sharp knife and slice the meat into pieces as big as he desired, not as small as his little body could handle.

He thought he was coping. He was.

But he wasn't.

Burdens gone, sure. But so many more things were still missing.

And today, of all days, he missed it all. Missed it so painfully he thought for a moment he might break in two, dividing himself and his fighting personalities.

He missed his house. His car. Having a driver's license. Missed using a credit card, doing his own grocery shopping. Even being able to drop off his dry cleaning at this moment seemed like a luxury.

He missed mission briefings and the treatment the marines used to give him. He missed being able to type furiously at his keyboard and write mission reports that topped novels without needing a booster seat to even see the keyboard.

He missed making a difference in the SGC, even if all he did was say 'hi' to new cultures and gain a handshake.

He missed coffee, blessed coffee, and the right to eat a Fifth Avenue bar for dinner if that's what he wanted. Independence.

Such simple things, gone. Oh, he knew he could regain some of them with time, but they would never be the same.

He'd never be the same.

Still Daniel Jackson, but changed by fate.

Gained some great things, lost some great things. He'd lost track of who was winning and it was exhausting.

"It's not fair!" he screamed, flinging a handful of sand into the early evening air. He looked at Jack. "No matter what you say, it's not the same! I'm not the same! That cake inside tells the world that I'm not the same! I want to be thirty-nine! I am thirty- nine! I'm..." he trailed off, not sure what he was saying anymore. Not sure what he wanted, what he hoped for.

"...out of options," he finished and the hand went back into the sand, raking the grains back and forth.

He felt a hand once again slip around his shoulder again and he let it sit there. He took a deep breath.

"I can't help how I feel, Jack. Sometimes I listen to myself and all I hear is this child's voice. I look in the mirror and I see blond hair and no glasses. Sometimes, it's hard to remember who I am. What if I forget completely? I lived almost forty-years of my life as one persona and boom, some alien planet decides that making me experience childhood all over again is a gift, act like I should be happy and that I've just won some fantastic prize.

"Well, I'm not on a game show. No winning here."

There was more silence.

"I'm not sure what to say." Daniel was almost startled by Jack's voice. It was so soft and low, so uncharacteristically unsure.

"I don't know if there is anything to say, Jack."

Jack shook his head. "It's not fair, Daniel." He sighed. "But you can't forget who you are no matter how hard you try. Good or bad. Believe me, I've tried." He paused. "If could, I'd change you back in an instant."

Daniel looked up at Jack, meeting his eyes. "Do you miss the other me?"

Jack looked confused and Daniel knew he wasn't expecting that question. He wasn't sure if Jack would answer honestly, though he hoped he would, even if he didn't like the answer. It bugged him. Jack was being comforting, even told him, he missed holding a child in his arms, but what about his friend? Did he miss his friend?

He watched Jack's eyes as he seemed to be processing an answer. Finally, he uttered a single, "Yes."

Daniel averted his gaze. He knew it would hurt, so he was surprised he wasn't truly prepared for it.

"But I still have my friend, you know. And a little bit more."

He looked back up at Jack, startled and confused by the statement. Jack gave him a small smile.

"No, it's not fair. And it's different. And I miss the way you used to be. I miss drinking beers and making you watch hockey. I miss your ramblings off-world and your attraction to trouble and artifacts. Hell, I may even miss your long-ass mission reports that made my head swim after the first paragraph.

"But I'm a contradiction, Daniel. And selfish. Because I like it being you and me. I like knowing you're safe and coming home to you and a picture on the fridge. I like seeing you play in the sandbox or roll a Matchbox car across the coffee table as if you don't have a care in the world.

"I like thinking that, for just a moment, you can be completely happy again."

Daniel blinked rapidly. "I want to be completely happy," he said. "I want to see you happy, too."

Jack just patted his head. "You don't get it, Daniel. *You* make me happy." He pulled Daniel close to him. "I love you, Daniel, no matter what."

Daniel felt wetness at his eyes and knew this time he couldn't force them away. "Really? As old Daniel or this Daniel?"

"Both."

Daniel closed his eyes. "I love you, too, Jack," he whispered. He felt Jack brush his bangs off his forehead and wipe his eyes. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

Finally Jack let out a breath. "We keep trying. We keep dialing that planet and hoping. But in the meantime, we try and live life and eat cake." He smiled. "Which, coincidentally there is some of that inside. Ice cream cake, too. Store bought by Carter herself." He gently let go of Daniel and stood up.

"Life sucks sometime, kiddo. It's a fact."

"I'm not a kid."

Jack smiled. "Daniel, you've always been a kid to me. Thirty-nine or six, you're still younger than me."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Then I guess some things always stay the same."

"Yep." He offered Daniel a hand. "We better hurry or Teal'c will eat all the cake. You know him and ice cream. And you've got lots of presents to open."

"Lots?"

"Fraiser herself brought three boxes."

Daniel latched unto his hand and felt Jack squeeze his hand.

"You ready?"

Daniel smiled. "No. But I will be. Eventually."


End file.
